Very handy undercover.
Set a Woman to catch a Woman.
A cunning ruse, using your innate aptitude for Nosiness and Gossip.
Mistress BECKA SAVAGE :
You will be punished for your interference!
The Trials are sacred.
They are The Will of God!
WILLA:
Is she alive?
(Yasmin checks for a pulse in her neck and shakes her head.)
Our Lady :
I'm sorry.
Mistress BECKA SAVAGE:
Now we have no way of knowing if Mother Twiston was a witch or not.
Guards, whip these wanderers off this bank, and then seize Willa Twiston.
We can take no chances.
Our Lady :
Leave her alone.
I'd bet my life neither of these women are witches.
But you, Mistress Savage are, without question, a murderer.
Mistress BECKA SAVAGE :
Who are you to address me this way?
Our Lady :
I'll tell you Who I Am.
(Checks her trouser pockets then turns to search her coat.)
Our Lady :
Sorry, one sec.
(She hold the psychic paper up to Becka.)
Mistress BECKA SAVAGE :
Witchfinder General?
Our Lady :
That's right.
Witchfinder General, with my crack team, taking over this village.
Right, gang?
The Elder :
Yeah, cos
you are in Special Measures.
Our Lady :
Now do you recognise our authority?
Mistress BECKA SAVAGE :
(dropping a very small curtsey)
I do beg your pardon, Mistress Witchfinder.
Please, come to my home.
We must talk in private.
(The guards sheathe their swords.)
Our Lady :
If you swear not to hurt that girl, or anyone else.
Mistress BECKA SAVAGE :
If that is your wish, you have The Command.
Our Lady :
Everybody, go home.
This trial is over.
WILLA:
I have to bury her.
(The masked figure has seen everything.)
KING JAMES :
Madam, I have come to your rescue.
(Then removes his mask.)
Mistress BECKA SAVAGE :
King James!
Your Majesty.
KING JAMES :
You may prostrate yourselves before me, God's chosen ruler and Satan's greatest foe come to vanquish the scourge of witchcraft across the land.
Forgive The Mask.
I have enemies everywhere and have to travel incognito.
Also, I rather like The Drama.
What a peculiar ragbag of folks.
And those garments.
Are you actors?
Our Lady :
We're your witchfinders, sire, as we explained to Mistress Savage.
(The Doctor holds out the psychic paper.)
KING JAMES :
Witchfinder's Assistant?
(to Graham)
So you must be The Witchfinder General.
Our Lady :
What!?
(Starts examining the Psychic Paper)
Mistress BECKA SAVAGE :
No, she said she was.
KING JAMES :
A woman could never be The General.
Our Lady :
Silly me.
Must've got all confused.
Mustn't I, Boss?
The Elder :
Er, yeah, that's me, sire.
North West Division, promoted from Essex.
KING JAMES :
And these are your underlings.
The Elder :
It's err... very flat team structure.
We all have our areas of expertise.
KING JAMES :
Even the wee lassie?
Our Lady :
Even me.
Very handy undercover.
Set a woman to catch a woman.
KING JAMES :
A cunning ruse, using your innate aptitude for Nosiness and Gossip.
And what is your field of expertise, My Nubian prince?
The Youth :
Er...
KING JAMES :
Torture?
The Youth :
Me?
Er... paperwork mostly, Your Majesty.
KING JAMES :
Paper. How fascinating.
We should talk.
But first, Madam, word has reached me of your battle against Satan, your crusade against witchcraft.
But what I saw today convinced me you need assistance.
Our Lady :
That's what we've just been saying...
KING JAMES :
Hold your tongue, lassie.
Stick to snooping and leave the strategy to your King.
This is no time for The Weak.
Satan preys on The Innocent, even while they sleep.
Together, we must purify your land, starting with the grandchild of the witch you tried today.
A fine plan, is it not?
Mistress BECKA SAVAGE :
A genius plan, Your Majesty.
Together we shall save the souls of my people from Satan,
even if it means killing them all.
SECRETARY:
So, Mister Pink, did you have a good weekend?
DANNY
The Pink Soldier :
Yeah, I did, thanks.
SECRETARY:
Yeah, I'll bet you did.
What did you get up to?
DANNY
The Pink Soldier :
Er, you know.
A bit of reading.
SECRETARY:
Oh, I bet you were reading.
DANNY
The Pink Soldier :
I was, yeah.
SECRETARY:
Yeah, I bet you were.
DANNY
The Pink Soldier :
Well, yeah, I was.
SECRETARY:
I know your type.
(A schoolgirl is listening at the public counter.)
COURTNEY:
She wishes.
SECRETARY:
Be quiet, you.
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